


Living la Dolce Vita

by orphan_account



Series: wordverse.gif [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Awkward Flirting, F/F, Humanstuck, Mentions of Cancer, Strangers to Lovers, Useless Lesbians, i still dont know what that tag if for but it still applies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She continued to talk about her students, and she sounded so genuinely happy to be doing so. It was honestly kind of cute. You rested your head on your hands, smiling faintly as she spoke. She was adorable. Dammit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhHHHH i love arafef so fucking much 
> 
> [here's my personal blog.](http://luciferslittlekitten.tumblr.com/)   
>  [here's my writing blog.](http://gods--among--us.tumblr.com/)   
> 

_**WORDS:**  chopsticks, falafel, carbonite, sweetener, anise, hake, ewer, candid_

\----

You weren’t Chinese.

Not in the slightest. You doubted you had a drop of Asian blood. You were African, all of your ancestors (to your knowledge) came from Africa, and you didn’t think that left any leeway for being Chinese, or at the very least Asian in general.

So you weren’t really sure why in the fresh hell your family owned and operated a Chinese restaurant.

You were fairly successful, and why you were unsure why all these people didn’t just travel a mile or so further down the road and get some quality Panda Express, you weren’t about to question it. You had to work a lot of the time, covering up for your older sister, who lounged about the restaurant like she owned the place, metaphorically speaking, since technically she kinda did, and popped her gum obnoxiously loud.

Most of the time, you were sitting at a counter, taking order after order and then screaming at your cooks to get them out. You got mad busy around one to two, because that was that huge office building had a lunch break or something, you guessed. There was one guy who was there literally every day. He kind of scared you. You didn’t know how one person could be so devoted to Chinese food.

Damara complimented his anime shades once, and he gave her a nod of appreciation.

The highest point of working in a Chinese restaurant was getting to eat the leftover food from the day. Like tonight, for example.

You were eating at one of the tables, way too much soy sauce on your dinner of hake and chow mein (near overdosing on soy sauce was, perhaps grossly, how you liked it) and going through your Instagram feed.

Suddenly, the doors chimed, queueing you in on the fact that a customer was here, and you looked up, fork stopping a few inches from your mouth. You never bothered with chopsticks, unlike Damara, who was so skilled with them she could probably kill someone.

The girl in question was wearing a light blue pocket shirt, slightly tucked into her high-waisted and washed out jean shorts. She had some pretty cute sandals, on too, she looked like she’d walking straight out of a Tumblr fashion blog photoset.

“Excuse me?” she chirped and you hummed.

“Yeah, sorry. What can I get for you?” you asked, coming out of your daze and setting your phone down, jumping over the counter to take her order.

“Not much, I’m sorry to drop by so late!” she exclaimed. She had hazel eyes and waves of dark, curly hair that spilled over her shoulders. Her voice was light and airy, “I just needed a quick bite, you know? And my favorite falafel place closed an hour ago.”

“I know what you mean. Haven’t had falafel, but Chinese food at midnight? Heaven.”

She giggled. “Well, do you have anything vegetarian? I hate to be picky, but, you know.”

“Spring rolls?” you suggested, “Not to toot my own horn, but I make ‘em, and they’re pretty good.”

“Alright! So… two of those. And a unsweetened tea, too. Can I eat in or are you closing up?”

You glanced over her shoulder outside. Damara wasn’t going to come back anytime soon, and the chefs had all gone home. You were the only one left in the restaurant, even the two other cooks you’d employed had gone home.

So you shrugged and said, “Yeah, sure. As long as you don’t cause too much of a mess.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I’ll try my best not to!”

You laughed and spun on your heel after sliding her a cup, swinging around the wall that led into the kitchen to whip up her spring rolls. Well, more like place the ones you’d made earlier carefully into a bag.

She had already seated herself and had when you returned, and you slid the bag onto her table, pouring the tea into her empty glass from your ewer. “Soy sauce? Sriracha? Uh… spicy mustard?”

“No, I’m okay!” she chimed, “Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem,” you smiled at her, which Damara told you was a shit idea and you should just nod at people instead but she didn’t seem psyched out and moved to retake your seat.

“Why don’t you sit with me?” she piped up, and you turned back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You want me to sit with you?”

She nodded.

You shrugged and slid into the seat across from her, watching as she daintily ate her spring rolls. She swallowed one bite, took a sip of water, and said, “My name is Feferi Pexies!”

You furrowed your brow. “Fishies?”

She chuckled. “No, Pexies. P-E-X-I-E-S. But Fishies is such an adorable nickname.”

“Well, alright, Fishies. I’m Aradia Megido.”

Her round eyes widened even further. “Hey, you’re the owner, aren’t you?”

You laughed. “Nah. Just her dorky daughter.”

Feferi had gone to take a drink, and she giggled so hard that she got droplets of water on her shirt.

“Darn!” she swore, and you could’ve laughed again at her choice of an expletive.

“It wasn’t that funny,” you relented as she tried to dab up the stains with napkins, “and you look fine, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said, trying a little longer before she sighed and gave up trying to dry her top.

She picked up a few things of Splenda sweetener from the table and dumped a few into her sweet tea, stirring it with her straw. “So, Aradia, tell me about yourself!”

“I’m just your server, you know.”

“I know, silly, but I still want to have a nice conversation with you!”

You gave her a look, but shook your head and eventually started, “Well, I’m twenty-seven and I still work at my mom’s Chinese place, so take that as you will. What about you?”

Feferi giggled. “Aww, well, as long as you like it, right?” you didn’t point out that you hated doing your sister’s bidding, who inherited this place despite being a lazy bitch, “And as for myself, I’m a first-grade teacher.”

You re-raised your eyebrow. “So you’re already off for the summer, huh?”

“Well, for a couple of weeks. I teach at a private school, and we go year round. We just have longer breaks all year, so it adds up. I go back next Monday, in fact.”

“I think I’d prefer a normal school schedule.”

She laughed again. It was a fantastic sound. “So would I, but private schools pay much more.”

“Aren’t those rich kids super snobby and annoying? I grew up with them in public school and I hated them.”

“Nah. They’re alright, especially the first graders, they are super duper sweet!”

She continued to talk about her students, and she sounded so genuinely happy to be doing so. It was honestly kind of cute. You rested your head on your hands, smiling faintly as she spoke.

She was adorable.

Dammit.

\---

Feferi came back in next Tuesday, round about four o’clock while Damara was working the register and you were helping in the back.

As soon as you heard her bubbly voice asking ‘Is Aradia working today?’ you slid out of the kitchen. You almost tripped and fell and died, but regained yourself, grinned, and gave her fingers guns.

She hid her laugh behind her hand, and her fingers were painted baby blue.

“Hey, Fishies!” you greeted her, jumping over the counter, “Welcome to the Megido Chinese Palace!”

“Glad to be back,” she said with a smile, “I just got off of school, and I thought I’d stop by for an early dinner.”

“And I was taking her order,” Damara said, tapping on the board of the register impatiently.

“Just get me what I got last time. Can you take your break yet?”

You turned to Damara and gave her your best puppy eyes, which she had told you were creepy as shit and you looked like you were stealing her soul with your gaze. She sighed and waved you off. “Make the food yourself, and I’ll let you hang out with your…” she paused and looked at Feferi, who waved meekly, “ _friend_ here.”

“Thank you, Mara!” you exclaimed, and she barely protested about her nickname. You turned to Feferi. “One sec.”

You parkoured back over the counter, but your foot slid off the tabletop wrong and you almost fell, but caught yourself on the entranceway to the kitchen. You turned and saw Feferi’s concerned stare and Damara’s unimpressed look at you before she turned her attention to picking at her fingernails. You gave Feferi finger guns again and slowly slid into the kitchen.

You made her her spring rolls with the most care you’d ever crafted spring rolls with. You brought her two of the finest spring roll specimens. They were most certainly the MVPs of their kind. You sat across from her as she drank her Diet Mr. Pibb (carbonated drinks today, she was certainly living it up), and talked about class for the day.

“I think you’d like my kids, Aradia,” she said, “My class is really sweet.”

“Maybe I would,” she shrugged, “Hey, um, Feferi, I was wondering… would you mind if I got your number?" 

“What for?” she asked, sipping her Mr. Pibb from a straw so as not to mess up her perfect pink lipstick.

“Uh, you know, just ‘cause? I’d like to think we’re on the fast track to becoming friends.”

Was it a good thing or a bad thing she didn’t see it as flirtatious? You weren’t sure, but Feferi reached into her purse and grabbed her phone, opening up her contacts and sliding it over to you.

“Put your number in,” she said, and so you did, hurriedly tapping it in and checking it four times to make sure it was correct. You put in your name, then a couple of friendly emojis (heart eyes, tongue sticking out, smirk. Just to get this lesbian ball rolling) before handing it back over to Feferi.

She scooted her chair around to sit next to you and held up her phone as if to take a selfie. You grinned and she laughed, snapping the most authentic and honest-to-god decent looking candid photo you’d ever seen. She quickly set it as your profile picture but didn’t care to scoot back around. As soon as you thought about it, you felt yourself growing nervously. Your leg that was not pushed up against hers bobbed anxiously under the table. Were you being weird?

“Gosh, I wish I could wear red lipstick,” she sighed, “It looks so good on you.”

You felt yourself blush. “What? Haha, I bet any color would look great on you, too, Fishies..”

“Oh, you’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it! I couldn’t pull off that light pink like you can. I’m too dark, wouldn’t look good with my skin tone. You’re just tan enough for it to look good, but also for darker colors to look good, too!” You wondered if you were rambling. Maybe she wasn’t flattered at all by this spiel of make-uppy bullshit.

“Thank you, Aradia,” she said, and you could’ve sworn that she was intentionally rubbing her leg against yours. Goddamn, it was smooth. Thank the lord you were wearing jeans because you hadn’t shaved since the coming of Christ.

“Well, right, um,” you coughed, “How are your spring rolls?”

_Dumbass! Why the hell would you ask about eggrolls of all things!_

She blinked, looked momentarily caught off-guard by the question. “They’re good!”

“Yep, um, could’ve put some hardcore anise in there but I didn’t,” you continued awkwardly, “Spring rolls are pretty great.”

She nodded. “Yeah, they are good. Especially yours.”

“Yeah, man, it’s like: cotton candy, sweetie, go, let me see your spring roll.”

“Haha, yes, that’s umm… er…” she tapped her fingers on the table.

You suddenly stood up and grabbed her cup, sloshing a little soda on the table. “Let me get you a refill!”

You didn’t let her respond before you took her cup into the kitchen and slid against the wall so she couldn’t see you. After a moment, you peeked through the doorway, and she was on her phone, looking around every once in awhile when her vision left the screen. You jumped and spilled soda on yourself when you heard Damara say, “Dude.”

She was stared at you, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised, and though she was almost completely stone-faced you could tell she was three seconds from bursting into laughter.

 _“Cotton candy, sweetie, go, let me see your spring roll?”_ she asked.  
  
“The 69 Boyz are quality musicians!”

She snorted. “You’re awful at flirting.”

“Gee, you think? I only got my first boyfriend because he came here so often! He was used to the weird shit!”

“He was Asian, too, you shouldn’t have broken up with him, Asian guys like to get serious.”

“I don’t need you to fetishize my ex-boyfriend right now, Damara!” you hissed, voice dropping because you remembered Feferi was out there, “He was Chinese, anyways, not even Japanese!”

“Japanese people are all inherently Chinese. Same difference.”

“No, not same difference!” you took a deep breath, “I don’t wanna argue right now. Look, you’ve had girlfriends, help me get one.”

“I don’t do relationships, Aradia, I hook-up with women occasionally, but I am not one to get serious. _Asobi-nin hima nashi,_ as the Japanese say: pleasure seekers have no free time.”

“Thanks, Google Translate. Now how do I hit on a girl?”

Damara sighed. “Be _amae_ about it-,”

“In English!”

“Be oblique. Subtle. Hitting on straight girls can scare them away, or if you’re lucky…” she winked at you, and you felt yourself flush, “But, seriously, from the looks of a _utsukushi-sa_ like that, she’s delicate.”

“She’s not delicate.”

“She delicate,” Damara decided, “So ease into the courting. It will have a larger pay-off. Now, about that refill, Aradia, you do realize that cup is barely halfway empty, right?”

“Yeah, I see that, thanks, sister dear,” you said, then turned and marched out of the kitchen only to be met with the sight of an empty table where Feferi had sat.

“Dammit!” you swore, louder than you had intended, catching the attention of everyone in the near-packed restaurant.

You chuckled nervously, gave off finger guns, and slinked back into the kitchen.

\---

You received a text later that night, watching Indiana Jones in your fuzzy skeleton Halloween pajama pants and leopard-print bra that was literally the most inconveniently patterned thing you owned.

CC: aradia!!! i am SO sorry i )(ad to run out like t)(at!!   
CC: there was important stuff wit)( my sister going on!   
CC: i meant to text you earlier but i )(ave been so busy with )(er today  
AA: oh its no biggie   
AA: i expected something was up

In reality, you sat in the kitchen, looking sad as hell, angsting and hating yourself and the whole nine, and the cooks gave you a plate of potstickers to cheer you up.

The potstickers helped, but did not fully cheer you up. But now you would’ve done a little happy dance if you weren’t so comfy.

CC: i still s)(ould )(ave said somet)(ing…  
AA: its really no prob bob  
CC: no prob bob!  
CC: t)(at’s so cute!  
CC: i’m going to use t)(at on my first graders.  
AA: im flattered fishies!   
CC: you s)(ould be, it’s a )(igh )(onor 38D  
AA: well tell the kiddos i say hi when you tell them about my little rhyme  
CC: will do!   
CC: anyways, i was )(oping maybe we could )(ang out a little?   
CC: i think you’re super sweet.  
AA: i am pretty goddamned sweet to tell the truth  
AA: but yeah that sounds amazing   
AA: i would love spending time with you  
CC: aww  
CC: it means a lot, dia!  
CC: well, i )(ave a load of basic mat)( to grade.   
CC: message you tomorrow with details, okay?   
AA: gotcha!  
CC: xoxoxo 38D  
AA: um  
AA: kissies fishies   
CC: t)(at’s super cute too!!   
CC: well, see you tomorrow!!

You paused Indiana Jones, stared at your phone screen for a solid one minute, then broke out into an excited squeal, punching your fist into the air in an act of victory.

\---

You had already designated yourself the butch of this relationship the second you laid eyes on Feferi. She was petite but subtly curvy and you had a good few inches and, well, a good few pounds, too. You put on your finest pair of thrift store jeans and your most eloquent old blouse of Damara’s and you were ready to rock and roll.

You met her at the diner a few miles south of your Chinese place. It was semi-50s styled and hella aesthetic, in your opinion, and she looked as casual as you did, so you thanked God you didn’t underdress. You were waited on by a teenage boy with an ASMR-worthy voice, but of course, you didn’t say that, because that would be fucking weird.

Feferi, the little thing she was, ordered at least twice as much as you did and you had to make sure she hadn’t gotten the wrong thing because where the hell was all that food going to even go?

“So,” she said and you momentarily freaked out because you had fives fries halfway in your mouth and you looked up at her and nod slowly, eating the fries and she giggled.

You wiped your mouth, trying not to think about if you’ve just smeared your lipstick, and said, “So.”

“You look really nice tonight,” she told you, smiling shyly, and your brain shorted out and you faltered on what to say. Half of you wanted to say she had pretty eyes and the other half of you wanted to say she smelled nice so in a fit of absolutely dumbassery you blurted out, “Your eyes smell nice.”

She gave you a look, then started laughing, and you flushed at your own foolishness, but joined in. At the end of a minute, she was laughing so hard she had one hand over her stomach and was fanning herself with the other. You weren’t even laughing at what you said anymore, you were laughing because Feferi’s laugh was just so goddamn contagious.

“Thank you,” she breathed, placing a hand over her mouth. Her face was pink from laughing so hard and she was smiling slightly.

“What a charmer I am,” you shook your head.

“It is charming,” she insisted, taking a fry off your plate, “you're an interesting character. You should really put yourself out there. Why do you work at your mom's, still?”

“I wanted to go to college for archaeology, but I couldn't afford it,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, “We don't have that much money, and my mom was fighting lung cancer.”

“Did she..?”

You shook your head. “Passed on three years ago.”

She laid her hand on yours. Her fingernails were done in uncharacteristically sloppy fuschia. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. She wouldn't want pity.”

“No, I…” she sighed and shook her head, smile faltering but ever-present, “Um, my sister was actually diagnosed with breast cancer not so long ago. It’s why I had to run out that one time.”

You blinked. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, Feferi. I shouldn’t’ve made this about me-,”

“No! ‘Dia, come on, you couldn’t have known. I never said anything.”

“How’s she doing?”

Feferi shrugged, pushing around the mashed potatoes on her plate with her fork. “She’s okay. But she’s not taking it so well.”

You wet your lips, feeling as though your throat was ten times drier. It was one thing to say someone you loved had died. It was another to say they were dying.

“Did they catch it in time?” you asked meekly.

“We don’t think so,” she answered quietly, struggling to retain her easy smile as her lip started to tremble, “Oh, gosh, apologies! I didn’t mean to make this dinner so depressing.”

“No. It’s good. That’s what makes us real, you know?” you told her experimentally, “It’s what makes us human. And friends. Humanfriends.”

You realized you sounded dumb, so you continued, idiotically enough, “I mean, if we weren’t real with one another, we’d just be another pair of acquaintances. You could’ve taken your spring rolls and gone. But you didn’t. You stayed and talked to me, even though I’m not much of a person to chat with.”

Feferi didn’t say anything, lightly dabbing under her eyes. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were glossy.

“And, um, you’re a good person. And bad things happen to good people because the world wants everyone to be as wicked as it is.”

You sounded like an edgy Tumblr post, but your lips were moving quicker than your brain.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for telling me these things,” you assured her, “I mean, not that I’m forcing you to tell me or anything-,”

She grabbed your hand before you could panic, a slight smile once again gracing her face. “Aradia. Be quiet, okay?” her voice sounded in the middle of breaking into either a cry or a laugh, “Thank you.”

You sat there with her for a while, just holding her hand. “You’re welcome,” you finally said.

She looked down at her nails, rubbing small circles into the space between your thumb and index finger. “You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had,” she admitted, “I haven’t known you for awfully long, but…”

“You’re one of the only friends I’ve ever had,” you found yourself admitting, and she stared at you. You looked down at the table. Your plate still sat but your appetite was gone.

“Then everyone is missing out,” she said finally. She brought your hand up to her lips and kissed it very gently. You normally would’ve gone absolutely red, but you found yourself just watching her, disbelief in your eyes.

You two sat there in silence for another moment.

“I’m off work tomorrow,” you offered, “Maybe I can repay you for tonight.”

Her eyes brightened. “I’d like that.”

When the two of your departed for the night, you realized that there was still traces of pink lipstick on your hand.


End file.
